


Not Brothers.  Partners.

by orphan_account



Series: Snapshots [1]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: 1950s, Gen, Pre-Canon, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzee and Dodd navigate what binds them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Brothers.  Partners.

“You better not tell anyone,” Dodd cautioned Hanzee, climbing into his truck with a case of stolen beer in the pickup’s bed. They were tasked to pick up groceries when 17-year-old Dodd had spied an unattended loading dock with a fresh delivery of Budweiser.

The Ford rumbled down the road away from town back to the Gerhardt homestead carrying its two passengers, grocery sacks, and the lifted goods.

“Of course.  We’re brothers,” Hanzee scanned Dodd’s reaction in his periphery. The statement was risky, but he felt he’d earned the title after living with the Gerhardts for almost eight years.  From what he saw, Dodd found this reply funny if not a little offensive.

“Ah, you don’t gotta look further than the end of your nose to see we’re not brothers,” he understood  _why_ Hanzee might think that, but despite the sentiment, they were decidedly not kin.

Hearing this put so bluntly from the older boy elicited from him an almost involuntary, “Oh.”

“We’re more like what ya call ‘partners in crime,’” Dodd nodded his head at his own perceptiveness, “I’m the first in line for the throne, and you’re like…my right hand man.”

Hanzee took a moment to put the whole metaphor together before answering, “You’re royalty.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m not.”

“No, you’re _born_ into royalty, see.  I know it don’t seem fair, but that’s just the way it is.”

The groceries in the back bumped along with the potholes in the road.  This time of year the plains were gray and dead like some sort of peacetime no-man’s land with slush from the last snow lingering in ditches.  Fast, low clouds flew across the horizon, indicating they were bound for rain soon, which would either clear the dirty slush away or freeze overnight in a cold spell.

 _This place is so beautiful sometimes_ , Hanzee thought, _but more often than not it looks like shit._

He honestly shouldn’t have been so surprised or as hurt as he felt.  Otto and Floyd never afforded him the privilege of calling them his parents. The Gerhardt homestead felt like his home, but he was much more of a live-in employee than anything else.  
_Not a servant though_ , he broke a kid’s rib last week for referring to him as such.

Dodd was used to Hanzee’s short answers, but this lack of communication in a conversation about his future as the leader of the Gerhardt family had him worried, “If you stick with me, we’ll be unstoppable, ya know,” no response from his friend,  “We watch each other’s backs; partners do stuff like that. So that’s why you’re not gonna tell mom or dad about me lifting that case of Budweiser.”

Partners sounded good.  Equal.

“Partners then,” Hanzee offered Dodd his upturned palm in lieu of an official handshake.  Dodd gave his colleague’s hand an assuring squeeze, and their informal contract for each other’s mutual protection was sealed.


End file.
